From Hell's Gates
by KimiruMai
Summary: Hell gives a person a lot of time to think. Observations that people wouldn't normally make come marching in with painful clarity. Frieza will always enjoy, and perhaps even miss, breaking his soul and watching him struggle, but even Hell has rules.


**So yeah, the usual, full of errors. Need beta. Quick beta with like, super speed powers. **

**Anyhow, I was on DA lookin at stuffs and I saw this one picture of SSJ Vegeta going for the Namek Dragon Balls, and Frieza trying in vain to stop him. It was a dream, although whether it was Vegeta's dream or Frieza's nightmare was up to the interpreter. So this hit me like a ton of bricks. **

**This of course, is barely a scrape of the tippy top of Frieza's mind, and not a really thorough in depth look at his thoughts like I have tried and failed to do many times. Possibly OOC, can't tell anymore at this point so…yeah, rambling. **

**REVIEWWW!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada, yada yada yada. **

**Song Prompt: Give Me Back My Life ~ Papa Roach**

* * *

**From Hell's Gates**

* * *

I look down on him and I see that he has changed.

Not all that much, but he has changed.

The look that he gives opponents who fear him is the same as ever, except perhaps with a bit more mirth, now that I am gone. His words are endlessly cocky and quick witted; he has always been skilled with words, my Prince. Always, he has been sharp tongued, no matter how well he could back up what he said, and more often than not, his opponents took his bluff. Always, in return, he took them down with sadistic joy. I see this very scenario with the fat, pale robot they call Android 19. I hear his blatantly mocking words, and I know that soon the androids will wish they had heeded them.

"_Tell me…" _

His voice sounds strange through the orb, with a slight waver that isn't really there. I do not like it.

"…_Does a machine like yourself ever experience fear?" _

He looks delighted as he says this, his pearly white teeth nearly gleaming in the sunlight. I remember how many times they were flashed at me in a growl or a snarl, and how many times he bared them when he felt threatened. I saw his teeth often, and their sharpness always managed to surprise me.

I recall when he had told the robot, _"I watched your fight with Kakarot, and I have seen your energy absorbing techniques. Well, if I can't blast you, I'll pound you into a pulp, that's all." _I had shaken my head at this, for I knew it to be true. He had always taken a bit of enjoyment out of drawing blood with his mere fist; as genius as he was with Ki manipulation, he was also a sort of brute.

His power flickers from his body. That is another thing about him that has only slightly changed; his bulk. He is no longer the slim figure that I knew during his service in my army. He is nearly twice his previous size, and taller, and it strikes me then that he must have grown some since his death. I wonder if this is a factor of his life beginning twice, or if Saiyan growth is not limited to childhood. His normally blue aura is golden now, and I wrinkle my nose. So, the little prince truly has become a Super Saiyan.

His teeth flash again as he concentrates and brings the rest of his power to the surface, and the coal black of his hair lightens and flashes to the golden color that manages to strike fear into me. It appalls me that I was beaten by such a ridiculous transformation.

He gives a sharp cry, and a crater blooms underneath his feet. The old android, whom as a watcher I know to be Doctor Gero, looks surprised, and the prince goes on to explain how he had come upon the transformation in his own way. _"The sleeper has awakened! I am the Prince of all Saiyans once again!" _

The androids doubt him. I think they are fools.

The fat robot flies at him, cackling in an irritating voice many octaves above my own. His fist shoots out, and his head snaps back. My eyes narrow; he took that hit on purpose.

Many more blows come, and still he makes no move to dodge or counter them. I am not curious as to what he's planning; I know. It isn't hard to guess.

The last hit finally makes him move his feet, and a grunt escapes his lips. The robot chuckles, until the Saiyan Prince rights himself and grins.

"_I was right," _he observes smugly. _"You are nothing." _His teal eyes twinkle.

That is yet another change about him.

"_Fresh out of the factory with no warranty, and already broken. What a pity." _

I wish to claim that I had taught him to trash-talk the way he does, and perhaps I did influenced him, but his words are his own. They have always been.

"_What a useless machine," _he goads as he steps into the crater he's made with the android's body. Lying in the dirt, it remains still for a moment, then sits up quickly and grasps his wrist. It cackles, tells him that it has him now, but he still does not look fazed. He doesn't move, doesn't even struggle, even while the android prompts him not to escape. He doesn't even look it in the eye.

"Idiot," I murmured to myself. "Cocky dumbass."

Almost as if he's heard me, he grins again, and plants his feet on the android's face. He delivers harsh words like heavy blows, and finally, the android appears frightened. It realizes that his legs are longer than its arms, and it can't hold onto him forever.

As he tears its arms off and rips the rest of it pieces, I do not shout "boo" and other less polite curses as the others who have gathered around me. I had cheered at Goku's defeat, eagerly participating in watching what has become a sport down here.

I cock my head curiously at his image, and narrow my eyes suspiciously. I wondered when I stopped seeing enjoyment in his failure.

Perhaps it was when I killed him.

* * *

His fight with the female android disgusts me.

It's an entirely hypocritical thought; I know that because she can't defeat a Super Saiyan, I unfortunately am no match for her or her sibling. Even so, I find myself disgusted.

She makes note of the fact that he talks too much, and I find myself agreeing. He always did have a big, fat mouth, and I often gave him a fat lip for it. He tells her that he won't go easy on her, because he prefers winning, and I roll my eyes. Gender never had been a large concern for Saiyans on the battlefield.

They trade blows evenly for a while, but I can see something already that he will surely refuse to admit; he is tiring. Her blows are quick and harsh, almost sharper than his, and he is tiring while she is not. Her energy is endless. His has a limit.

She seems to flee, but she isn't really; I know I trap when I see one. I have set many myself, though in cleverer means than this. He follows her, too eager to finish his battle, and not thinking of the consequences. Had he stayed in his place, she surely would have flown back to him, but my monkey has never been a patient one.

They land on a truck, and he taunts her more; I nearly slap my forehead. He has chosen the wrong opponent to mock. She is in perfect control, and besides, trash-talk is more for men than women. Females, I have discovered, can be very direct with their anger.

She is laughing at him.

I frown, remembering a time and day where that was my job, where I was the one who mocked him. I do not like her taking my place.

Now back to their original battle ground, a road in the middle of nowhere, she teases him further. He is unfazed by her short, clipped comments, and tells her that she is to be recycled.

"_Now, be good and be still," _he challenges. He is a fool; even if she doesn't move, and it will not affect her.

She tells him to take his best shot; he is angry. I have warned him before not to let his anger get in the way of his judgment, and I am disappointed to know that he has not heeded my warnings.

She flies at him, head-butts him, and he gives a short cry of surprise while she darts away again. Here, I am especially appalled; she has caused him to bleed. Crimson slips from his brow into his eyes, and he blinks. I can nearly see the blood turn his gaze red, and he blinks again sharply before he charges. His blow contacts with her stomach at the same time that her knee contacts with his.

I nearly freeze as he does, and blood flies from his lips. It is not beautiful the way it was when I delivered similar blows to him on Namek; she has no talent for art. She is a brute, the same as he. She catches him and stops his fall, only to ask him what if feels like to be in such pain, because she herself cannot know.

The orb nearly reflects his thought, but only I can understand it. The look in his eyes, narrowed to slits, shows familiarity. He is thinking that this is nothing, nothing, compared to what I have done to him.

I am pleased.

He recovers eventually, and fires a heavy blast to her. She cries out, but when the dust clears, she is still standing. Congratulations, monkey, you've managed to mess up her hair. She mocks his heritage, and his training results, and suddenly his insults are not so clever.

I am appalled! I'd taught him better than this! How dare he soil my name with such petty slurs! I had given similar ones to him so he could counter them, and only when his cleverness peaked would I kick it up a notch, and when his cleverness again matched mine I would go higher still. There was a reason for this! Didn't he know how I had used that as a training tool? I had needed him sharp witted as he was sharp tongued; one trait was imperfect without the other. My careful guiding hand has been wasted!

He is slipping.

"Stupid monkey," I hiss, and he falters, and she slams him into the side of the mountain. I nearly feel the impact myself; it is painful. His cry is wrong, a groan of pain instead of shrieking defiance bottled up for years. She's doing it wrong, can't she see she's doing it wrong?

This android is an idiot!

She breaks his arm, and he screams. I see in his eyes how his only thought is _pain! _And I cringe at how incorrectly she is doing this, how his thoughts should be _Stop! This isn't right, I should be crushing you, I was so close…this can't happen to me, not after I survived for so long…_

The purple haired Saiyan rushes in, and I sneer in contempt. I like him no more than I like Son Goku. Both of them can rot in hell for all I care.

He cries something, and I am not surprised by it; I noticed it the moment of my death, how when I died, the last thing I saw was my favorite monkey's face, with teal eyes.

I frown as he charges in, his sword shattering on the android's arms. I wrinkle my nose; the boy is as stupid as his father.

* * *

I am not permitted to view his training in the Time Chamber through the orb. There are magical barriers in that universe that prevents such a thing, and most people wish to curse at the image of Son Goku anyway. Many of his enemies are here, but hardly any of the prince's are. Most of them have gone to heaven, I suppose. Innocents and all. A few have come to curse him, but they are lowlife scum hardly worth the bottom of his boot. He wouldn't remember them even if they came back from the dead to haunt them. He would do the same thing as I; he would turn his nose up at them and blast them to oblivion for annoying him with their lowly presence.

One watcher in particular is making me quite annoyed. He has had his back to me this entire time we've been watching this whole fiasco unfold, and he shouldn't under any circumstances let his guard down. He is dressed differently than he used to, in a black body suit with a sleek breastplate of the same color, painted with gold dragons and trim. The shoulder guards and thigh guards are not the rounded kind I am used to, but a model that fits the curvature of his shoulders and thighs. I wonder why I hadn't thought of the design myself; it is far more stylish than Saiyan armor, although that has improved with the later versions as well.

He will not look at me, and it is beneath me to catch his attention. I am itching to tear him to pieces to ease my boredom.

The monkey prince and his brat come out of the strange chamber, and while it is obvious that the boy has aged, the elder has not. His ego and pride have been restored in the time he was inside, his confidence burning a smirk into his features. That smirk has always been particularly annoying to me.

The boy is much taller than he was when he went in; he is a giant monster of a boy, actually, not unlike his grandfather. I had always hated how tall the prince's father was. It irritated me to have to look up to him when I should have been staring him down. I am pleased that my prince has never grown to be so enormous. He is always perfectly lithe and agile, small but vicious.

But when he comes out, I am yet again disgusted; he has changed again! Again, he has bulked further, and he again looks taller to me, although I'm sure this is merely the orb warping his image. He looks about with lazy eyes, mocking his rival (whom I still detest with my entire being) and leaves soon after with the boy to fight the newest android, whom they've finally located. It is ugly like a cockroach, and I see him sneer at its appearance; he has never liked insects, a weakness that I exploited mercilessly in my lifetime.

He fights with it for a moment, testing it, teasing it with his newfound power, and it is severely outclassed. His fist slides into its stomach cavity like a hot knife through butter, and it cries and whines about how impossible the whole thing is.

"_Come on, this is starting to get boring," _he says, frowning as he comes to rest in ankle deep water. I nearly roll my eyes; how typical of him. The cockroach burst from the sea and roars, then tells him that it is done humoring him. His lips turn up in a grin, as though he was waiting for the comment. He flattens his palms and breaks into a run, and a large explosion follows. His battle cries overpower its shrieks, and he leaves heavy dents in its flesh. It distracts him for a moment with a Ki blast, and catches him in the jaw. I raise a brow, and note that his son is unfazed, and I truly do roll my eyes this time. This creature is an even greater fool than the female android. It laughs and squeals with glee until he appears from nowhere and smashes into its back.

He lands on his toes like a dancer, and when he speaks, his voice is riddled with clear amusement. _"That was it?" _he nearly laughs, _"Really?" _

It forms a crater with its power, and his feet float above it. He is still unfazed and disdainful. It finally manages to strike him, and his smirk is feral. _"If that's the best you can do,"_ he says, his mouth twisted in a predator's grin as he brushes the blood from his lips, _"then I suppose there's no reason for me to draw this out any longer, is there."_

It is not a question, and his dimples show with his smile. He turns his back on it, and its fury is great. It fires at him in a move I know well, and he very nearly applauds it. _"Well done! The Galick Gun has always been my favorite." _

It screams in rage, and he finally becomes annoyed with it, and shows it what Ki truly is. He mocks it further by acknowledging the purple boy, whose hair has grown into Zarbon-like proportions. I am surprised that he finally calls the boy his child. He had spent many an hour denying him previously. _"Trunks there has nearly the same power level as me. He's not quite as strong as I am, of course, but he still puts you to shame." _He spits in the dirt and calls it nothing but a warm-up session.

It screams and wails about finding the female android, and I wince because I know that will peak his interest…

And certainly, it does.

He lets it absorb her, certain that it will do no good, but he is mistaken. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, and find no pleasure in watching it beat him. It does not do it correctly, either.

"Frieza," my brother murmurs as I turn away. Hell has changed him; he has found a common hatred with me, and now he is civil in my company. "Why don't you watch? Wasn't he yours?"

I sneer in contempt, and turn up my nose at him. "He is still mine, Cooler. He will always be mine. He can't escape me, even in death."

"His or yours," my brother speculates.

"Precisely." I do not feel a sting in my pride at the comment, because it is still I who killed him firstly. He will never forget that…I refuse to allow him.

* * *

I am sorely disappointed. How could he let that demon slug take over his mind? What a waste! I had always known him to be ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted, but never had it gone this far. Where was that stubborn brat I had nearly raised, the one who refused to bow to me without gritting his teeth? Where was the idiot that refused to yield to me?

I had expected better of him.

And yet, hardly a few hours later, there he is again, burning himself inside-out for his mate and child. I should have known he'd grow soft. At least, he is not completely lost…he had resisted the mind control as I thought, and I saw the determined child in him once more.

I feel his presence here in Hell, but I cannot go to him and tear him apart as I used to. Not only has the stupid boy surpassed me by miles, but being in Hell does not permit me such a joy.

* * *

I watch the fight as eagerly as everyone else, hoping Son Goku will fail. It appears as though this Buu creature has no limits, and endless reservoirs of energy and replenishing factors earn him favors.

"He will surely kill them," Cell says to me. I wish it wouldn't talk to me so often; it admires my ruthlessness, it says, despite my weakness. I was sure to tell it where it could shove its admiration, but it was not intimidated. I do hate being thought of as weak.

"I certainly hope so," I say, folding my arms. "Someone should put that monkey in his place."

It smirks and looks satisfied. "I have been avenged already. The brat who defeated me was absorbed."

"Thanks to his own foolishness," I say, smirking. "To think you were defeated by such a simpleton –"

"You dare insult me?" it hisses. I ignore it.

Majin Buu is unlike any creature I have ever seen. No matter how many times the Saiyans appear to blow him to bits, he reforms. What I wouldn't give for such an ability…he is very nearly immortal. His blows are sharp and pinpointed, unlike the previous foes of the Saiyans. I am pleased with this enemy; his fighting style nearly reminds me of my own, but without a tail to aid him. I am sure the Monkey Prince has realized this as well; he occasionally has a flash of recognition in his eyes, and he grits his teeth the way he used to.

The pink devil creature delivers a series of harsh hits. I nearly wince myself; he is beautifully merciless. I have not seen the monkey prince so covered in blood since his first revival. This enemy is finally fighting him correctly. The severe blows, the seemingly endless amount of energy that makes him look impossible to beat, the taunting laughter… he is nearly perfect, and would be perfect, were he sane. I very much like this creature.

Cell growls – a Saiyan trait, I note with irritation – and as if Majin Buu can hear it, it says, "Come on! Forget that worthless weakling! Kill Son Goku!"

"Hush, Cell," I chide. "I'm enjoying this battle."

It rolls its eyes at me. "You are the only one here who truly cares about seeing that spikey-haired punching-bag bleed. I have more important things to be watching."

While this may be true, none of them have known him the way I do. It's different. This brat has always fascinated me, even from his childhood. I see the same look in his eyes now as I did when he was young. I can hear his thoughts of _Get up, get up! I'm not done yet. I'm not finished! Get up! _

He does get up, much to my amusement. Over and over again, he gets up, when before he would have stayed down, although unwillingly.

"Perhaps," I say, "But your petty attempts at cleverly insulting me aren't going to change my mind."

It sneers, deciding I am no fun, and stalks away. I am relieved.

"Annoying slug, isn't it?"

I groan. Another pesky insect. "What do you want?" I demanded, glaring at the newcomer. "Don't forget, it may be stronger than I, but you're nothing to me."

Raditz grins, his hands on his hips. A gold ring that matches the trim of his black armor clicks softly. "Not anymore. You're nothing but a soul, don't you remember?"

"And you aren't?" I sneer.

"Not quite. I've become a sort of spirit guide. I'm not entirely hell bound. It was a deal, made many years ago by my father. He was quite nearly the only Saiyan of the last couple of generations to make it into Otherworld, you know."

"How special."

"Quite. The deal was that Saiyans would be turned into protectors, the opposite of what we had been. Of course, Yemma only agreed to that because we were forced to." He looks at me pointedly, and I narrow my eyes at him. "There were completely evil exceptions, but for the most part, many Saiyans were accepted."

"Is there a point to this story?" I asked disinterestedly, and my tail slams into the ground.

He fingers the black sword hit at his side. "Yes, yes."

"Get on with it then. I'm watching a battle."

"You're concentrating on this one very hard, aren't you? More so than the others."

I whirl. "Have you been watching me?" I demand.

"Only when you watch him…so yes, quite often."

"Saiyan, I am this close –"

"You can't beat me now, Frieza," Raditz interrupts. "I'm an Otherworld warrior, and you are nothing but a damned soul. I could tear you apart easily. Don't think I've spent these years doing nothing."

"You should be wishing Son Goku would die, like the rest of us," I snap. "He killed you, didn't he?"

A soft smile comes over his face, and he looks at the orb.

Majin Buu slams the brat into a crater, and he lies still for a moment. The pink monster cackles, not expecting him to get up this time. When he does, the creature's shock is obvious.

"_What are you gawking at?" _he snarls, surfacing from the crater. He is covered in dirt and blood trails, and crimson red stains his teeth. _"What did you think? That I was going to roll over and die from an attack like that?" _

Majin Buu hisses.

"_You're nothing, just a trickster! I am a warrior! The Saiyan Prince! Vegeta!" _

He always did love announcing himself.

Raditz chuckles. "He's come far," he remarks. "I'm proud of him."

"There is nothing spectacular about him," I say casually.

He smiles as though he is certain it's a lie. "He has grown. I remember him as a child, not entirely unlike he is now."

I frown. "He has changed."

"To you, perhaps," Raditz says calmly. "I don't believe so. He has merely found his path. You were the one who changed him, Frieza. He has merely reverted back to the way he was."

"He doesn't even slay anymore," I sneer.

"He lives for the fight, not the kill. It's the way Saiyans were supposed to live. You changed us."

I glanced at him and remain silent. He continues.

"I suppose you're waiting for me to explain why I am not wishing my brother will fail."

I do not dignify that stupid statement with a response.

"I was bitter for years. I spent a lot of time wishing I could go back and slaughter him. But over the course of time, I realized that there was a reason he was so eager to kill me. Besides taking his brat, I mean." He pauses to snicker. "What a mouth on that kid…My brother hated me because I did the very thing to him that you did to all the Saiyans. I brought a cruel truth with me when I confronted him."

I am almost interested in this conversation.

"I taught him that he came from a race of killers. You taught us that killing was the only way we could survive once you had us in your clutches. Both are ugly truths."

There is clarity in his words; I am amused. "Truth is never beautiful, Raditz."

"No, it's often beautiful. The Prince's sacrifice for his child and mate, for instance, forced him to acknowledge that he did love them, very much. That is a wonderful truth. A righteous one."

I sneer. "It is a petty one."

"To you whom was never truly loved."

Majin Buu is throttling him now. How appropriate, how memorable. The electricity is a nice touch.

_You will fail, monkey, _I think. It is not a wish, merely a fact I am certain of, and Raditz's sword is suddenly at my throat. I freeze; the last blade I felt was not pleasant.

"I'll thank you kindly to stop," he murmurs, an arm's length away. "You've tortured him enough years."

"I'll torture him until he dies," I hiss. He does not need to fail for me to hurt him. Whether he dies or not, he is still beneath me.

"He has died twice. Your time is up."

"Don't think you can threaten me and keep your existence," I snap.

"You can't destroy me. That would grant you joy, and here that is something you simply can't have. However, as a spirit guardian, I am permitted joy, and it would give me great joy to kill you."

I hate monkeys who think they're smart.

"This has become tedious," Raditz says. "I was granted the position of guarding my Prince even in death, and yet I still have been unable to protect him from you." He turns his sword a bit and pierces the skin over my collarbone deeply. I feel no pain; the skin is not real. "I have finally been given permission to stop you. You are no longer allowed to haunt him, Frieza."

"A little scratch, and that disallows me?" I laugh.

"From a spirit warrior, yes. This sword has properties I can't even begin to explain to the likes of you, demon. Any time you aim to seek him out, you will merely find yourself back here, stumbling around in circles. You can't harm him any longer. Did you notice that as the years go on, you affect him less? You can't send a mere thought his way and attack him anymore. He's moving on. And with this, you finally can't even make an attempt to damage him further."

"You stupid monkey," I hiss.

"He is free of you."

Raditz fades to mist, a pleased grin on his face. It strikes me then that my little monkey is not going to die this time, and neither will Son Goku. This enemy will fail, just like the others. Just like I did.

I turn to the orb and see that he has been revived; the halo over his head is gone. He has become "good". I had never thought it's possible.

_Brat_, I think hatefully.

He doesn't flinch.

He is very nearly as resilient as he was before, even with his body restored; his ability to get back up no longer surprises me. The determination that kid possessed had always caused me trouble.

Majin Buu dies from the attack that failed to kill me, and once upon a time, as I have learned, failed to kill the Little Prince as well. The surrounding watchers groan and curse, angry and disappointed. I watch Son Goku make a victory gesture to him, and he collapses, then returns it.

"_Finally, it's over," _he murmurs.

As if he has any idea.

The curses have yet to cease, although most spectators are already leaving. I glare at the orb once, silent. I decided I will not watch him fight again.

"I suppose you are free," I say, as though he can still hear me. "Freedom was what you always wished for, wasn't it?"

This time, it's as if he does hear me, and Vegeta laughs.


End file.
